Tag Archives: what is not wrong with you
Guest blog: The love story between me and my breasts
I’m so excited about this week’s guest blog, because it’s a gorgeous exploration of the relationship between the guest blogger and her body, specifically her breasts. Please welcome Jannette Davies, from Scarlet Ladies Talk.
Jannette co-founded Scarlet Ladies in February 2015, and together with her co-founder Sarah Beilfuss, she runs events where women can openly discuss and explore their sexuality and bodies – and dispel a few myths along the way. Their events have got lots of people talking, and they sound like a lot of fun. Their next event is Body Bliss – a day-long retreat in London aimed at helping you explore – and hopefully fall in love with – your body.
Her story is personal, funny and relatable: all the things I like best.
All the beautiful ways your body changes
On Sunday morning when I slipped back into bed, I realised something: your body changes on a daily basis, and so I will never know every inch of it. It is always new.
From the scent of you, to the heat you radiate, to the marks and curves that come and go: I will never know every detail of your body.
Do you indulge in sensual masturbation?
I’ve wanted to write about sensual masturbation for a really, really long time. This rant has taken about three months to percolate in my mind, and eventually boil over – I estimate that’s roughly 2.5 months longer than the total time I’ve spent wanking in my entire adult life.
What are real men and how can I spot one in the wild?
Let me tell you something about real men: real men cry. They weep giant, fist-sized tears of misery. They collect them in a bucket, which they’ll later use to drown an angry bear.
Pay attention: it’s important. Because just as we’re told that ‘real women’ have curves, so we’re also spun lines about which men count as ‘real’.
Study the signs, remember them. Then burn your laptop lest this fall into enemy hands.
My first date was as incompetent as you’d expect
How should I define my first date? There were lots of experiences with boys long before I was ever formally asked to the cinema, or for dinner, or whatever it is people do when they’re not just desperately trying to rummage in each other’s pants.
The first time I kissed a guy (on the lips, no snogging or anything) I was at the swimming pool. Our friends had all got together for an afternoon of splashing around, and I was determined that I’d come home with a boyfriend. The proto-boyfriend, you understand – not a real one. The one you get when you ask your best mate to just go around all the boys who seem vaguely willing and ask them in turn: “Will you go out with my friend?”